“Nice place,” Kevan commented when they were in Scott’s apartment.
Craig nodded, going to the desk in one corner of the living room. “Feel free to look around.”
“That’s why I’m here. Where’s the bedroom?” When Craig pointed, Kevan went into it.
“I know you, Scott,” Craig murmured as he began searching the files in one of the desk drawers. “You kept copies of everything, so the number must be in here somewhere.” He found it, in a folder marked Important papers, along with Scott’s birth certificate, high school diploma, and papers saying he’d registered with the Selective Service just after he’d turned eighteen.
“Conscientious citizen,” Kevan said from over Craig’s shoulder, startling him.
“I think it’s the law,” Craig retorted. “He was…Damn it, he is a pacifist.”
“Keep thinking that w
